


I Prefer Choking to Chair Shots

by howsyasister



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Breathplay, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:10:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsyasister/pseuds/howsyasister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of Seth's departure, Dean and Roman find themselves even closer than before. Turns out they work together pretty damned well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Prefer Choking to Chair Shots

**Author's Note:**

> Not a strict sequel to X-Ray Alpha November Alpha X-Ray, but definitely taking place after it.

"I'm gonna punch him right in his stupid fucking tooth gap. Everything I do to him, I'm gonna do it twice. Once for me and once for you."

Dean's voice is gleeful and rumbling and breathy and repeatedly stoppered by harsh kisses. 

"I'm gonna- I'm gonna get him in a stretch and pull his fucking arm out of socket. Won't stop until he's crying for Trips."

He keeps losing track of his thoughts in the soft cushion of Roman's lips and the delicious scratch of his beard. His elbows rest easily over the oh-so-slightly shorter man's shoulders, hands conducting a silent symphony until Roman gets a commanding hand in his hair so easily, like he had earlier, and Dean puts up just as little argument as he had before, head rolling easily back and to the side where it's directed. He's kept waiting- eager, but not anxious- with his chest heaving for about three heartbeats and he holds so still until the eagerly anticipated, aggressive scrape of teeth pulls at a tendon in his neck and sets his mouth running away again. 

"I wanna- I'm g-ahh. Shit. I wanna suck you off. Lemme suck you off." He switches gears fully, finally getting Seth off his mind as he feels Roman working on what will be one hell of a mark. He's pawing at the front of Roman's pants, grinding his palm against the already hardening bulge he finds there. "You want me on my knees, right? I-" A sharp hiss that he can't help interrupts for just a second as the hand in his hair tightens and wrenches a bit harder. "Shit. I like getting on my knees for ya, big guy-"

"Dean."

"Yeah?" The half-cocked grin is impossible to wipe off his face.

"Shut up." Roman's hand gets forceful again, pushing downward on Ambrose for the split second it takes before he follows the silent order on his own. He obeys quickly, but is sure to indulge in more indiscreet groping and an intense stare that Roman meets with his easy, handsome smile. It's almost offensive how easily he can work Dean over while still keeping his cool. 

"Good god, you're terrifying," Dean finds himself chuckling up to Roman from his knees. 

"You sure as hell don't look terrified."

"That's 'cause I'm the monster under the bed."

That earns Dean a sweet pet to his hair and, though he can't peg why, he certainly likes it. Humming at the feeling of a job well done, he hastily yanks Roman's shorts off his hips. He pauses as Reigns takes himself in hand, then dives in, tracing his tongue over and around the tip and pulling a sigh out of Roman's chest as he sinks into a more relaxed control. Again, Dean makes a pleased hum as he slides his tongue up the underside of Roman's cock, then flicks his eyes up to shoot his partner a grin before swallowing about half of him down. 

His hands stay almost tidily in his lap as he pulls back torturously slow. Peeking up at Roman with one open eye, he catches sight of broad shoulders rolling and a cocky head tilt. He can't help but grin at it, tipping his own head back until just the tip of Roman's cock is resting on his tongue and the hot, wet air of half a laugh rolls along its length. 

"... You having fun down there?"

"Why, should I not be?" Dean croons, turning his head to murmur his words against velvety hard skin. "Should I not have a bit of fun with my best friend? Figured that was in the manual, man. Feel free to-" He pauses for emphasis, always the drama queen, letting just his bottom lip catch on skin. "Correct me."

Roman barks a surprised laugh, then shifts his hand to grip at the crown of Dean's head.

"We both know you're gonna have just as much fun if I correct you."

"Put your money where my mouth is, pretty boy."

A Look crosses Roman's face.

"Dean, that was fucking stupid, I'm not-"

"Ya gonna fuck my face or not, asshole?"

The answer is a sharp yank to Dean's hair that has him gasping. Opening his mouth again, his tongue lolls out invitingly and he lets his brain turn off as Roman's cock slides in. He dials in on the heat and weight of it in his mouth, tongue pressing up hard against it. That lures a low sound out of Roman and a few strokes of his thumb over Dean's hair, while the rest of his fingers keep their tangled grip. The tenderness is nice and all, but when Dean is like this- when they both get like this- tenderness isn't what's needed. 

Roman pushes his cock slowly into Dean's mouth until he feels resistance, then back out. Dean gets a few more careful thrusts like it to adjust to the total lack of control and get some breath in him before Roman is speeding up, getting a little harsher, holding his head firmly in place. Dean's fingers start to grip tightly at his knees to satisfy the need for them to be doing something, while he narrows what focus he has to sucking in breath when he can and making sure Roman feels amazing.

Breathing is a bit tough when there's a dick at your tonsils. Dean's doing his best, but he admittedly starts to feel a bit floaty, the harder Roman goes, the more he gags, the more he wants to and lets himself be used. He can feel his jaw cramping a bit in a way that gets worse with every little twitch of a stifled reflex and his lips are going numb in the way that he loves and he thinks this might be the feeling of completely empty lungs. Roman's loving this- how good he's feeling, how good Dean's being, how good it is for the both of them like this, and Dean wants to hold out and he wants to be stubborn and hang on for his best friend who knows so well what he needs, but there's a shake starting down his arms and his grip on his knees is failing. 

It's not without a pang of guilt that he gets his hands up on Roman's thighs. He doesn't push because he doesn't have to. Roman pulls out immediately, letting Dean cough and gasp and smear away the reflexive tears he hadn't realized were on his cheeks. Goddamn, but his throat is sore, whiny over the abuse. It's all better with the hand smoothing over his hair, though, then resting warm and solid at the back of his neck.

"Doing good, Dean. Doing good. Tough as fucking nails." Roman's voice is as warm as his skin, if significantly less steady than usual. Still panting hard, Dean flicks his eyes up to Roman's face to check the authenticity of the praise. It's kind of stupid, since Roman's never lied to him. That's why this even works. They've both got their share of well-founded trust issues, though, so the reassurance of Roman's flushed and admiring face feels so damn good. 

Before he's fully reclaimed his breath, Dean lunges back into mouthing at Roman's cock, still breathing hard through his nose, but thoroughly tired of making his best friend wait. Roman's hand massages the back of his neck as he gets his lips around his dick again and bobs his head at a pace just west of easy. He sucks hard, cheeks hollowing, as his tongue drags along the underside, then flicks at the ridge of the head and over the slit for a faint taste of saltiness. He repeats it a few times, loving the way Roman's hand twitches each time he tongues the flare of his corona, then stops about halfway up, letting his jaw slacken. It's all the cue Roman needs to start up the easy roll of his hips again. 

There's the slightest quiver to him that says he's holding back so much of that raw power Dean adores, for his own sake, and the notion has Dean's neglected dick throbbing in his sweats. He shifts a bit, pushing his knees apart to free up some room to palm at the tent in his pants, not unaware of what getting off on all this does for Roman. The pace quickens as Dean rolls his hips against his hand and he can hear Roman's breathing getting ragged above him. It's downright cyclical at this point, and when Dean fumbles the waistband of his pants down enough to fish his cock out, the feeling of fingers tightening both around his shaft and the back of his neck has him letting out a moan that gets interrupted by Roman's cock bumping the back of his throat again. 

He's so much less careful with himself, stroking quickly and roughly as his mouth gets similar treatment. His breathing is horribly out of sync again and he's flushed down from ears to neck, but this time, he knows he can hold out. Roman's rough thrusts are faltering and the floaty shaking feeling is almost nice, combined with the buzzing pleasure coiling in the pit of his stomach. He hollows his cheeks again as best he can, with the edges of his awareness blurring, and that does it. Roman makes a harsh sound, then it's a few more jerky thrusts and he comes into Dean's eager mouth. When he pulls out, the rush of oxygen has Dean's muscles locking up as he orgasms like a goddamn teenager: messily over his hand and sweatpants. He's hardly aware of the mechanics of it, though, instead caught up in the whole blinding pleasure aspect. When his brain catches up, he's a shaking goon with his forehead resting against Roman's thigh. 

He's aware of the jizz dripping from the corner of his mouth, but he's also aware of the jizz dripping from his hands and how little progress he'd make there, so he leaves it be. After a moment, there's a hand supporting his forehead, lifting it from Roman's thigh. He leans on it shamelessly as Roman sits, then tugs him to rest on his shoulder. With a snort, he thumbs the rapidly cooling splooge off, then thinks a beat before wiping it on Dean's already nasty pants.

"Fuck you, that's disgusting."

"You were happier with cold cum on your face?"

"You don't know what I like."

"Actually, pretty sure I do." Dean laughs at that, too busy fighting a potential drop to remember not to humor bad jokes. "How's your throat? Those stitches holding up okay?"

"I'm fine. Noticed you didn't grab my chin any. Appreciate it."

"I'm mean, but I ain't that mean."

"You're mean as puppies, shut the fuck up... I liked the having your hair down thing, by the way."

"Figured you might. Water?"

"Not yet."

"Dean, you sound like-"

"I said not fucking yet, jesus."

Dean presses into Roman's shoulder. He's not done being close yet. This is the closest he's ever been to healing. It's the closest he's ever been to healthy. He'd wonder what that says about him, but it's frankly par for the course. Right now, he can forget he's lost a brother, just for this moment, because for once, he's got something kind of amazing to fall back on.


End file.
